


Day 26: Recovery

by SpiderShell



Series: FEBUWHUMP 2021: IronDad [26]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: BAMF May Parker (Spider-Man), BAMF Ned Leeds, BAMF Pepper Potts, BAMF Tony Stark, Depressed Peter Parker, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Recovery, Sad Peter Parker, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderShell/pseuds/SpiderShell
Summary: Peter sat at the very edge of Queensboro Bridge, staring into the depths of the dark water. The lights of the city reflected on the smooth surface like lanterns, but underneath the lights lurked cold, calmnothingness.Suffocating peace. Deadly silence.All it would take was one shuffle, one movement - then it would all be over.He took a deep, deep breath. "Karen, can you record something for me?"
Relationships: Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: FEBUWHUMP 2021: IronDad [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136318
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	Day 26: Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> **NOTE:** DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE. THIS MAY BE EXTREMELY DISTURBING AND TRIGGERING TO SOME PEOPLE, SO STOP RIGHT HERE IF THIS UPSETS YOU IN ANY WAY. If this makes you feel uncomfortable or upset, please skip to the recovery part of the fic or stop reading entirely. Your safety is important. 
> 
> The first part of the fic, the dark part, I wrote a couple months ago in the middle of the night and posted. So, it's also posted separately, but this fic has recovery (at the end), so it's a bit less dark in the end than the original "At the Bottom" fic.
> 
> The quote that appears is from a story that my sister wrote a few months ago for a writing competition, so all credit to her!!

_“He’d been dangerous, but not in the way I thought. He had been a danger to himself. A silent type of danger. He was so lost and broken that he was willing to take his own life without thinking about how it would affect others around him.”_

\- Ten, _by Diana_

* * *

Peter sat at the very edge of Queensboro Bridge, staring into the depths of the dark water. The lights of the city reflected on the smooth surface like lanterns, but underneath the lights lurked cold, calm _nothingness._ Suffocating peace. Deadly silence. 

All it would take was one shuffle, one movement - then it would all be over. 

He wondered who would actually notice that he was gone. His friends and family would certainly miss him, or would they? Lately, it seemed that he was nothing but a burden, causing trouble for everyone. They'd probably be glad to see him gone. He knew he would if he were them. 

Had it really only been ten months ago that Uncle Ben had been murdered? It seemed like years had passed, yet no time at all.

"I could have saved him," Peter whispered to himself, his eyes never leaving the water. "If I had only been fast enough, good enough. How can May live with me? It's my fault he's dead."

 _Peter, are you alright? Your heart rate is rising, and you seem to be showing signs of distress._ Karen, the AI in Peter's suit, tried to speak to him, her voice taking on an almost gentle tone.

Peter sniffled, the sound amplified inside his mask. "I feel so _old_ ," he said, as if in answer to Karen. "I think about all the years gone by, and they feel like a million lifetimes ago. I remember a little boy, who was innocent and happy, dreaming of superheroes and growing older. Oh, I wish I could go back and tell him to enjoy his life, to savour it while it lasts. I wish I could stop time for him, let him live in a reality where life is good and all is happy."

He kicked his legs, the boots from his suit set to the side so that his toes could dangle in the cool night breeze. "Wow, that sounded poetic," he scoffed. "No wonder I'm such an idiot. How can May and Ned stand me? How can Mr Stark tolerate me and all my mistakes?"

He didn't blame them. He'd been too naïve to see it before, but now he was finally seeing himself for what he was - a selfish boy who got on everyone's nerves and caused problems.

Poor Ned. His best friend had been a better friend than anyone could have ever asked for. He had stood by Peter's side through all, lying for him, doing so many things for him. He wished he'd treated him better. Well, that was something else to add to the list of "Things Peter Screwed Up": being a good friend.

Poor May. Dear, kind May, who'd taken six-year-old Peter in without a second thought when his parents had died, who'd cared for and looked after him for nine years. And what had he done to thank her? He'd lied to her, he'd gotten her husband killed, he used up the small amount of money she earned with his growing needs, he'd caused her more stress than one should have to go through. And it was all his fault.

Poor Mr. Stark. The billionaire and veteran superhero had gone through so much trauma in his life. He'd saved the world and done so much for it, and all he deserved was to be free from problems and to live a happy, carefree life. But yet he was burdened with Peter. He'd given the boy an internship, given him so much of his time, but Peter did not believe it was because he wanted to. It was because he was obligated to. He'd probably felt guilty after taking a fourteen-year-old to battle, thought that he couldn't just walk out of his life after Peter had saved the day on homecoming night. It would have been better for him to have just walked away; sure, Peter would have been heartbroken, but he had to admit that it would have been better for everyone. 

Peter raised his eyes to trace the outline of the city, haloed in a glow of light. He watched the flickering windows of the apartment buildings, and wondered if anyone else was feeling as miserable as him. 

How had it come to this? 

"I hate myself," he said suddenly, back slumping. "Everyone's going to be better off without me."

_Peter, I think you should contact someone. Should I call Mr. Stark?_

"No!" Peter gasped, shuffling forward quarter of an inch. "Please don't do that." He paused, taking a deep, deep breath. "Can you record something for me?"

_Of course, Peter._

Peter cleared his throat and leant his head against one of the bridge support beams. "First of all, I just want to say sorry. But I just can't do this anymore. I've been drowning for so long, but now I'm going to find peace, find quiet.

"Aunt May, you didn't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry for all the burdens I brought upon you, and I promise things will be better now. Thank you for the time I had with you. Ned, I wish I could have been a better friend, and looking back, I would have treated you so much better. Thank you for being my guy in the chair. Mr. Stark, thank you for mentoring me and giving me a new suit. It's been better than anything I ever dreamed of, and I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you. I just wanted you to know that you are a father figure to me, and I'll miss you. 

"I love you all so, so much, but this is the better way. Please don't mourn for me. Peter."

_Shall I send the recording?_

"Thank you, Karen," Peter said, leaning forward and gazing into the water once more. "You've been so good to me."

 _I enjoy my time with you, Peter._

Peter smiled sadly. "Alright, you can send the recording now."

_Sending recording to May Parker, Ned Leeds, and Tony Stark._

"Thank you." Peter sighed, and took a long, last look at his beloved city. "Goodbye," he whispered. 

_Incoming call from Tony Stark._

"Decline," Peter said tiredly.

_I cannot do that as Mr. Stark has overridden my protocols. Answering call -_

Peter yanked the mask off his head, his tearstained face cold in the wind. "Goodbye," he whispered again, pushing off the edge of the bridge and falling into darkness. 

His body plunged, slowly twisting and rotating in the air. It rushed past his head, whistling and screeching, so utterly opposite to peace that Peter longed to hit the water. His mind screamed at him, its voice so loud that it masked the roar of repulsors. 

Suddenly, so quick that he could not pinpoint the moment it happened, he stopped falling. Thirty feet away from the water, something caught him, carrying him away from the dark water and the peace that called to him.

There was something hard under his back. Someone was leaning above him, but he had no energy to do anything but lay limp. 

“-eter! Peter!” Someone was trying to talk to him, Peter thought, the realisation coming to him slowly. Why hadn’t they let him die? 

Something was pushing on his chest, hard now, and Peter opened his eyes with a gasp. Tony Stark leaned above him, and the look on his face was one that Peter had never seen before. 

Tony was scared. 

Eyes blinking owlishly, Peter watched relief flood over his mentor’s features now that he knew the boy was conscious. “Mstr Stark?” he murmured. He tried to sit up, but was too tired to move. 

“Peter,” Tony breathed, lifting Peter up to a sitting position. “Oh, Pete,” he said brokenly and pulled the boy to his chest, wrapping his arms about him tightly to protect him. He buried his nose in Peter’s soft hair, tears streaming from his eyes. “Oh, _Pete_ ,” he repeated. 

Peter rested his head against Tony’s chest. “Mr. Stark, why are you crying?" he asked, feeling wetness in his hair. 

Tony lifted his head. ‘You almost died, Peter,” he said. “I almost lost you.” He tightened his arms. “I had no idea you were feeling this way. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter said nothing, but his breath hitched and he pressed himself closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Tony broke into sobs, his body shaking. “Mr. Stark?” Peter said, scared. He had never seen Tony cry before. He pulled back, trying to look at his mentor and father figure's face. The man's eyes were red and bloodshot, wet with tears.

"Pete, if you had died, you would have killed May and I," Tony finally managed to say. "No matter what your mind is telling you, you matter so much to us. Did you think about how this would affect your aunt, Ned, me?"

"You'd all be better off without me," Peter said softly. "I've caused nothing but problems since I've come into your lives." A tear dripped down his face and trailed down to the corner of his mouth. 

"No, no," Tony said, trapping Peter's face with his hands and using his thumb to wipe away the tear. "You're one of the best things that has ever happened to me. My life is so much happier since you came into it."

"Really?" Peter searched Tony's expression for any sign of a lie. When he realised that he was telling the truth, he burst into tears and began to hyperventilate. 

Tony pulled his kid closer and pressed one hand to his head, the other rubbing his back soothingly. "Let me help you," he whispered. "We'll get through this, I promise."

"Okay," Peter said, his voice full of trust as his breathing slowed and became normal. Now that he knew how much he meant to Tony, he felt almost _at peace._ Maybe he didn't want to die. Maybe he just needed people to tell him that they cared about him. 

"Oh." Peter felt Tony rock them slowly, and realised with a sudden jolt that he had spoken aloud. "Kid, don't you know how much you mean to me? I love you so very much, Peter. So very much. You're like a son to me."

Peter was struck speechless. "I...I..," he began. "You're like my father, Mr. Stark." He pressed his face deeper into Tony's chest. "I love you, too," he whispered shyly.

The two sat still for a long while before Tony stirred and rose to his feet, carrying Peter. "I'm taking you back to the tower," he explained gently. "Tomorrow, we'll talk to May and possibly get you set up with a therapist."

"Okay," Peter mumbled, drifting off to sleep. The world around him was quiet, and he was at peace.

* * *

“How are you feeling today, Peter?” May asked gently, watching her nephew eat his breakfast quietly. 

Peter looked up at her, his eyes swimming with tears. “I’m sad,” he said eventually, “and I don’t know how to stop feeling sad.”

May placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Try adding ‘for now’.”

“I’m sad, and I don’t know how to stop feeling sad…for now.” 

“Good job!” she praised. With a kiss to the side of his head, she picked up his empty bowl and rinsed it in the sink. 

Peter smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t always feel this way.

* * *

It was one of those days. Peter felt like a train wreck, his antidepressants were making him feel sick, it was raining outside, and the dog died in the movie he was watching. He sat on the floor of his bedroom, face buried in his hands, sobbing for everything that was wrong. His mind felt like it was imploding. Why was he like this? There was just too much….

Then there was someone kneeling in front of him and soft hands running down the sides of his head, pulling his hands away. “Hey,” Pepper said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“About a million things,” Peter wailed, choking on a sob. 

Pepper wrapped her arms around him. “You know, it’s hard to focus on three things at once, and even two is quite tricky. So let’s deal with them one at a time.”

* * *

“I think I lean on you too much for support. It’s not fair on you,” Peter said suddenly as he was playing video games with Ned. “I’m sorry.”

Ned’s face twisted into a look of concern, and he put down the controller, slipping an arm around his best friend’s shoulders. “Do you remember the time that I got stuck up a tree when we went exploring the woods without permission at third grade camp? You stayed with me for over an hour in the rain until someone came to rescue us.”

Peter smiled sadly. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

“We all have our trees,” Ned said softly.

* * *

Tony was watching Peter out of the corner of his eye as they worked in the lab together, him on his suit’s gauntlets, and Pete on his homework. But he could tell someone was wrong with the way that his mentee was huddling in on himself and squished his eraser in his fist. 

“How are you feeling, Underoos?” he asked, wheeling his chair so that he faced Peter and gave him his full attention. 

Peter glanced up at him, dark circles ringing his eyes. “Does it matter?” He sighed. “I’ll manage.”

“How you feel is very important,” Tony said, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry if the world has taught you otherwise.”

* * *

_Six months later…._

Peter bounced into Tony’s lab, full of exuberant energy. “Mr. Stark, I’m here!!” he shouted over the deafening roar of AC/DC playing from the loudspeakers. 

Grinning, Tony turned the music down. “How’re you feeling, Pete?”

“Awesome,” Peter exclaimed as he dumped his backpack on the lab couch and headed to grab a glass of cold water from the mini-fridge. “I got an A- in my worst class for this semester, and we’ve been given this super-cool science experiment to try over the break!” 

Tony smiled, tears rising to his eyes as he took in the news and the mood of his mentee. His classes had all dropped to C’s and D’s _before_ , and to know that Peter had been able to bring things back to normal in a way this semester meant more than anyone could ever know. The recovery had been a fight, a marathon, but here they were. Look how far they had come! He shook his head in wonder as his surrogate son began to describe the ins and outs of his experiment. 

_I’m so proud of you, Pete,_ he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for being so supportive of me with your wonderful comments!! It means the absolute world to me <333
> 
> Love you guys, and see ya tomorrow!! ✌🤟


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